


Unmoored

by RonnaWren (orphan_account)



Series: The Lives and Loves of Republicans [3]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: 1990s, Drunk Kissing, First Meeting, Gen, M/M, Wisconsin Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/RonnaWren
Summary: He has it then-- But the moment is gone before he can understand.





	Unmoored

Summer get-togethers of the Wisconsin GOP were all the same: Loud, crowded, and cautiously optimistic. Reince rested his back against a wall, watching people he knew well attempt to impress people he'd never seen before. Though it had been years since his pizza-serving days, after several months away, he was once again ill-at-ease.

"The man of the hour, our very own Paul Ryan!" the host of the evening's festivities announced. Reince glanced up to see an attractive man with a strong jaw and arresting blue eyes about his own age, standing amid a flock of well-wishers.

So, this was the illustrious Paul Ryan, the 27-year-old upstart embarking on a doomed Congressional campaign. Not state Senate, mind, but Congress. In the district Reince himself had grown up in, no less. Realistically, Ryan would lose the primary, and if by some miracle he scraped through, then he'd be crushed by the Democrat in the general. Oh dear, he was coming this way...

"Hi, I'm Paul Ryan, and I'm running for Congress in District 1."

"Yeah, I know who you are," Reince said. His stomach swooped. Oh hell, he was talking to him...

Ryan smiled, enthusiastically shaking his hand, his grip painfully tight. "Great! So, who are you?"

"I'm Reince Priebus. I'm attending law school at the University of Miami."

"Reinze?" Ryan said hesitantly.

"No, Reince. More of an S sound."

"Oh, sorry about that, Reince," Ryan laughed apologetically. "Did I get it right that time?"

"You did."

"So, this your first year at Miami?" Ryan continued.

Reince nodded.

"Hang on a sec," Ryan said. "I'll get us some beers." He scurried back through the crowd, shaking hands as he went, and returned promptly with a cup in each hand. He held one out.

"Thanks," Reince said, taking the proffered cup. "So, I've read a bit about you, but what are you campaigning on?"

Looking as if Christmas had come early, Ryan launched into an outline of his goals. "Yeah, so I want to reform Social Security, to make it work better. I want to lower taxes. Also gun rights are really important."

"That sounds fantastic," Reince said. "Any big endorsements yet?"

"Not public ones, unfortunately," Ryan replied. "But I've been told I could be the future of the Party, so I've got my fingers crossed." He demonstrated, causing Reince to laugh lightly.

"I think the whole Party needs a rebranding," Reince admitted. "Kind of along the lines of what you're campaigning on."

"Oh?" Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. "And how would you go about it?"

"I'd get elected to the State Centra Committee, eventually," Reince said.

"Sounds like a plan," Ryan said. "Let's pinky swear to reform this Party together."

"Okay." They linked pinkies and shook on it. Reince could feel his face heating up, and wondered how obvious his blush was.

The next hour or so was spent getting progressively drunker and expressing grand, impossible visions of various futures. Ryan—Paul, now, at his somewhat plaintive request—was eloquent, his voice lulling Reince into a contented haze.

"You're beautiful," Reince whispered, interrupting one of Paul's eviscerations of Wisconsin's Democrats, and impulsively taking his hand. Reince leaned forward to gently brush his lips against Paul's cheek.

"’Handsome’ or ‘ripped’ or ‘hot,’" Paul replied. "That's how people  
usually describe me. Never 'beautiful.'"

"They don't know what they're talking about," Reince retorted. "There isn't any other word that encompasses what you are."

By this time, the crowd had coalesced into smaller groups, none of whom paid any attention to the activities outside their circle. Reince kissed Paul again, this time with more heat. "This is okay?" he confirmed, pulling back to gaze into Paul's allurring eyes.

"Yeah. Oh god, I think I'm seriously wasted," Paul murmured.

"Do you want more to drink?"

"Hell yeah." After an additional beer, Paul returned Reince's kisses with as much zeal as Reince gave them.

*

"Oh fuck, ow!" Midmorning sunlight streamed through Reince's window; his head felt as if someone were burrowing their way out with a large drill bit. He buried it under the blankets in an attempt to ease the pain, but the throbbing continued unabated.

"Fucking hell, I kissed a candidate for Congress." Glumly, he threw the blankets back and tumbled—quite literally—onto the floor. As he stood, the room spun sickeningly.

He vaguely remember calling a cab, then leading Paul to it with an arm thrown over his shoulders, as they both wove across the room to the door. Paul said he was staying in town, and would not have arrived there had he not written the address in his meticulously organized planner. Ugh, Reince was quite certain he'd kissed Paul in the backseat of the cab at the sight of the planner, and then again several times throughout the remainder of the ride, and then once more when they dropped Paul off. What the driver must have thought...

"I will never drink again," Reince vowed under his breath, wandering down the hall to find a phone.

Steeling himself, Reince punched in the number Paul had written (upside down) on the back of his hand. The numbers were a bit smudged, but he was moderately sure he'd read them right. Someone picked up the phone after the third ring. "Hello?" Paul's bleary voice said.

"Hi, Paul. This is Reince. We met last night."

"Oh, hi. Um, how are you on this... beautiful morning?"

"Fine," Reince said. "You sound pretty fucking hungover. You doing okay?"

"Fine. Can't remember everything about last night, though. We didn't have sex or something, did we?"

"Ah..." Reince paused. Paul couldn't remember? Well, at least he could be truthful—strictly speaking. "No," he said. "No, of course we didn't."

"Thank god," Paul sighed. "Imagine what my naysayers would be telling each other now. 'Ryan's just a kid. Gets super drunk at parties.'"

"No one noticed. I mean, no one would have noticed," Reince told him, failing to keep his voice entirely steady.

"Yeah, probably not," Paul agreed. "Still, I can't risk anything."

"Yeah." 

"Hey, thanks for giving me a call," Paul chirped. "I enjoyed our conversation about reshaping the Party—at least, I'm pretty sure we talked about that."

"Yes, we did."

"Cool. Well, you wanna get coffee, so we can talk more?"

"Why not? There's a place downtown that I go a lot. Good, strong coffee there."  
Reince hung up, dropping the phone with a startingly loud bang back into its cradle. Sighing, he gazed at the tree outside his window. He could find no comfort there.

*

EPILOGUE, NOVEMBER 2012

The final, disappointing results roll in. Reince embraces him tightly, as if he fears Paul will vanish if he lets go. Paul pats him awkwardly on the back. "Reince, we'll win this in four years. Everything will be fine."

"I know we will, but I wanted this for you."

"I wanted to win for the Party and the country. I don't need to be Vice President—"

Reince's dry hand cups Paul's cheek. "I'd give you the moon if I could, but I settled with the Vice Presidency. I failed." The expression in Reince's eyes is so intense and indefinable that Paul wishes to look away. The expression reminds him of their first meeting fifteen years ago at that Party gathering in Kenosha, but why?

"You didn't fail, Reince," Paul says at last. "Our loss tonight is only a moment, and we can try a new strategy in the next election."

Reince smiles bitterly. "But you may not be on the ticket for the next election."

"That doesn't matter. Winning's the most important thing, and I don't need to be on the ticket to appreciate it." Paul returns Reince's embrace a bit hesitantly. "Our vision's the best vision, and we'll get this right next time."

At his words, Reince's eyes soften. "Yes," he says. "With you, my dreams can be made real."

Paul has it then, the reason why he is reminded of fifteen years ago— But he loses it before he can fully understand. Well, no big deal. It isn't as if Reince is in love with him or anything.

"Four more years," Reince says, pulling away. "We can wait four more years."

"Yep. And in four years, we'll be stronger than ever."

"I love— I love all you do for the Party, Paul," Reince says, turning to walk away across the room. Paul doubts he has ever seen a bleaker figure.

**Author's Note:**

> I need a life.


End file.
